


A Special Present...

by orphan_account



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: Cuddles, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Surprises, WILTY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Mitchell/Charlie Brooker established relationship fic.</p>
<p>David returns home from a WILTY recording with a special present in mind for Charlie....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Special Present...

**Author's Note:**

> *waves*  
> Hello, this is my first attempt at writing for this site, although I have shipped this pairing for a long time! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

“Fuck-a-Jesus, what the hell is that?!?”

The question was spat with the combined force of incredulous vitriol that Charlie Brooker usually reserved solely for venting his frustration at the antics of the most recent batch of incoherently burbling, imbecilic incumbents of the Big Brother house, most of whom he had long ago concluded were actively pursuing the goal of trying to achieve a negative score on a standardised IQ test, based upon their unintelligible soundtrack of hideous, meaningless shrieks and groans by which they seemed to communicate-victims of a media experiment in reverse evolution no doubt- coupled with the repulsed sneer provoked by the thought of attempting to withstand the suicidal agony induced by the prospect of a double afternoon omnibus edition of Emmerdale. His faintly lined face was a portrait of outright disgust tinged with mild horror as he raised a disbelieving eyebrow at an impossible angle, his hazel eyes bulging faintly as his nonplussed expression managed to trigger yet another wave of helpless silent mirth from the sniggering form of David Mitchell who was seated next to him on the red fabric sofa.

“It’s orange for fuck’s sake!!” his eyes were wide with a feigned horror as he stared downwards, throwing his hands up in confused surrender, the pitch of his voice climbing to its usual crescendo when delivering a disbelieving squawk of indignation, “Would you kindly tell me which planet you abducted this, this THING from!!”  
David looked up, wheezing faintly from his attack of the giggles, clutching the arm of the sofa for support.

“Finished yet? His dark eyes twinkled as he leant in closer, the spicy tang of red wine present upon his breath as he idly traced a pale finger along Charlie’s stubbled jawline.  
“Y’know, you do happen to be rather adorable when you’re expressing extreme outrage about something…” he smiled fondly as Charlie rolled his eyes and bit back the stream of incredulous insults that he yearned to throw at the orange garment that he had been duped into wearing. 

“Hmmph, the whole “Guantanamo look” does it for you then?” he replied, plucking mulishly at the slightly frayed cuff of his tangerine outfit, pouting gently as the crease between his defined eyebrows eased slightly, unable to feel anything other than a warm rush of joy at David’s gesture of affection. Love certainly had to be a powerful thing if it was able to silence Charlie Brooker in full flow.

“Well….”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

David hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d returned home from the recordings rather later than usual, secretively clutching a carrier bag to his chest as he let himself into Charlie’s flat to find his fellow curmudgeon in league snoring lightly in front of the late night drivel on an obscure digital channel, a discarded notepad sat at his side that was filled with scribbled critiques for the evening’s viewings. Charlie had been doing his homework whilst waiting for David to return, submitting himself to the usual gruelling marathon of shitty reality television, wacky imported game shows, self-important, lavishly produced period dramas that took themselves far too seriously, and familiarising himself with the latest batch of unsavoury, shallow, simpering media personalities whose inflated egos, turgid balloons of self-obsessed glory, were in severe need of savage puncturing in Charlie’s own inimitable acerbic style.

He couldn’t have resisted the chance to fulfil the strange kleptomaniac urge that he’d suffered from after the Would I Lie to You recording, his sides sore from well over ten minutes of uninterrupted laughter at the bizarre sight of Rob Brydon and the delightfully dry-witted Nick Hewer sharing that hideous “cuddle-jumper”, nearly weeping with glee at the antics of his fellow compatriots, his jaw and ribs actually aching from laughter. It was Jack Whitehall’s question from his right that had jolted his mind into contemplating the other possibilities that the cuddle-jumper may have on offer.

“Does the design lend itself to intimacy?” the enquiry from the young comedian had been made in an accent so posh that it had made David feel positively working class. David’s eyes sparkled, dark glistening gems set into his porcelain skin, a faint pink flush appearing on his unblemished complexion, barely hearing Hewer’s deadpan response, slipping into a gloriously filthy daydream as his imagination began to dream up a range of different uses for the brightly coloured jumper. It hadn’t taken much skill for him to slip a £10 note to the wardrobe assistant to ensure that the item of knitwear in question never returned to the bowels of the cavernous BBC wardrobe department.

Charlie had stirred from his slumber when David’s kiss touched lightly upon his brow, a friendly hand slowly caressing his shoulder. He smiled sleepily through half-closed eyes at the sight of his dark-haired lover, reaching up to gently run his fingers through David’s floppy hair, curling his digits into the brown locks and carefully pulling him in closer for a more sustained kiss, his warm lips leaving a trail of goosebumps across David’s skin, chilly from his short walk through the frosty streets from Clapham Junction.

“What time do you call this, Mitchell?” came the faintly indignant inquiry, “Half-past midnight? Shouldn’t middle-aged comedians suffering from a severe case of angry logic be tucked up safely in bed after their quiz show recordings? Wake up fresh to rant another day?”

“Sorry…” he’d leant forward and placed another gentle kiss upon the end of Charlie’s nose, “It was a long recording tonight, and Pinewood Studios are a fucking nightmare to travel to from here….”

“But…” his hand trailed lower, emboldened slightly by alcohol from the customary trip to the bar after the end of the recording, snaking slowly down Charlie’s torso, pausing suggestively over his belt-buckle, “I did bring a little surprise with me….”

His voice lowered as he eased himself into Charlie’s lap, straddling him delicately, whispering quietly into his ear, pausing to nip slightly at the fleshy lobe with his teeth, trailing a stream of little scalding kisses down the side of Charlie’s neck. Oh, he’d missed Charlie…..

“Now, if I were to ask you to undress for me, slowly….and then close your eyes- no peeping…” He breathed, feeling the response in Charlie’s growing erection, nudging underneath him, “I have a little something for you in this bag….”

Charlie had thrown him a quizzical look, but the underlying hunger in his eyes betrayed him as his hands rose to pull his t-shirt over his head, desire burning in him as David’s eager hands assisted him gently, his David (he still couldn’t quite get used to that phrase) rewarding him with a slow caress of his naked shoulders, peppering his collarbone with subtle little kisses, enough to make the skin slightly sensitive, enough to tingle from David’s touch as he slowly brushed a thumb over Charlie’s nipple, causing him to hiss slightly, his breathing hitching as he began to unbuckle his jeans.

“Good….Now then… eyes closed please, and put your arms in the air….” David instructed as he gently slipped Charlie’s jeans and boxers onto the floor, the older man sitting completely naked upon the sofa, stripped and trusting, surveying David hungrily as he awaited his next instruction.

“Eyes closed, Brooker!”

A faint rustle of fabric, and the sound of another set of clothes being hurriedly discarded and David was sat next to him on the sofa, his body radiating comforting warmth in his closeness. "He still doesn’t like me to see him fully naked…. Another of his little hang-ups…" Charlie thought as he squirmed involuntarily at the soft texture that tickled his sensitive bare flesh, sliding softly over his face as David’s arm looped itself gently over his bare shoulder, feeding his arm through yet more of this soft, woolly texture. "Mmm, nice and warm… " he thought, He could feel David’s breath upon his shoulder as he shifted slowly on the sofa, arranging the final details of the surprise, David snuggling into his side… Lovely warm David….all mine…  
“There…. Now open your eyes….”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“A what?” Charlie was giggling now, his deep guffaws resonating through David’s body as well due to his close proximity, “Cuddle-jumper? Dear Lord, the things your researchers come up with…. And Brydon and Hewer modeled this?” 

His sniggering was abruptly halted with an involuntary hiss of surprise as a wandering hand found his semi-hard cock and squeezed him firmly, long, narrow fingers caressing him at a maddeningly slow pace, the tingling sensation rippling through him, his stomach muscles clenching in response. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears as David continued to stroke him, his cock hot and slick, the soft woolly fibres tickling his sensitive skin, extra stimulation as he let loose a low, urgent moan. David’s mouth found his and met him with a hard kiss, their tongues executing an exquisite dance as David increased his rhythm, Charlie whimpering in response to his partners skilled hands, arching his pelvis forwards wantonly to meet the rapid strokes, savouring the intimacy offered by such a closed environment between the two occupants of the jumper, a warm cocoon around their naked flesh.

“David…” the name fell from his slightly-parted lips like a benediction, as he nuzzled into the comedian, raising one leg in order to partly straddle him, grinding his pubic bone into David, delighted to find that David was equally hard, little “oh’s” of need slipping from his mouth as his dark eyes met Charlie’s, his pupils blown wide with desire. Charlie began to stroke David, matching his pace, appreciating the soft moans of pleasure that were escaping from David.

“You know…” David growled in his ear as his grip tightened on Charlie’s cock, a faint dribble of pre-come oozing slowly along the length,

“I was thinking about you tonight during that recording…. “ 

His voice was velvety smooth in Charlie’s ear, still bearing his trademark nasal overtones, but with a rich undercurrent of passion, “Thinking of lying you across one of the desks on the WILTY set, and just fucking you, holding you down and fucking you hard until you just screamed my name….” 

His voice tightened as Charlie bit down softly upon his shoulder, sending a shudder of ecstasy through him, pushing him ever higher…

Charlie groaned loudly, his cock positively throbbing as David continued to whisper increasingly filthy remarks down his ear. He was so hard it hurt, blood pounding in his veins as he felt his stomach pool with heat, throwing his head back and coming with a stifled scream of raw pleasure, his reaction was enough to tip David over the edge soon after, his breath escaping in one long hiss of release, sighing in exquisite agony as his head slumped comfortably against Charlie’s broad shoulder, the orange wool of the jumper definitely rather sticky….

“Thank you…” Charlie placed a gentle kiss upon his lover’s head, smiling down at the resting form of David Mitchell, still unable to believe that 6 months down the line, that this relationship was still developing beautifully.


End file.
